


My White Flag

by swallowthewhale



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowthewhale/pseuds/swallowthewhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding out that you're still listed as your ex's emergency contact at one in the morning is not the best way to get over the love of your life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My love where are you

Jane never used to sleep with her phone on loud, but Mateo spends half the week with Rafael and she wants to make sure she’ll be available if anything happens. It’s not unusual for Rafael and Jane to talk on the phone at three or four in the morning, when one of them has tried everything to get Mateo to fall asleep again and they need some advice from the other parent. So Jane isn’t particularly concerned when her phone jolts her awake at one in the morning on a Tuesday.

“Hello?” she answers, turning on her bedside lamp.

“Jane Villanueva?” It’s not Rafael. Or her mom. Or any voice that she can recognize.

“Yes…” Mateo stirs in his crib, and Jane tucks the phone between her ear and shoulder and goes to pick him up.

“I have here that you’re listed as the emergency contact for Michael Cordero.”

Jane almost drops the phone. “What happened? Is Michael okay?”

The nurse pauses for a long moment. “He’s in critical condition, Ms. Villanueva. I’m going to need you to come to St. Luke’s Hospital as soon as you can. I have some paperwork that needs to be filled out.”

“Oh - Okay.” Jane bounces Mateo.

“Ms. Villanueva…”

“Oh, um, yes?”

“I don’t have anyone listed as next of kin. Do you know who Mr. Cordero would like to be contacted?”

“Um, I have his mom’s number. I can call her. She doesn’t live around here though.”

“Why don’t you just get here and we can sort the rest out then,” the nurse says kindly.

Jane immediately calls Rafael. He answers on the third ring, groggy but awake.

“Michael’s in the hospital,” Jane blurts out.

Rafael is very quiet.

“I’m still his emergency contact. I need to go. Can I drop Mateo off on my way?”

Rafael surprises her. “I’ll come pick you both up. Then I’ll drop you off at the hospital and bring Mateo home.”

“Thank you,” Jane whispers.

He’s there in fifteen minutes, and Jane is ready. Mateo’s bag is packed, her bag is packed, Mateo is sleeping in his car seat, wrapped in a blanket. Rafael buckles Mateo in while Jane slumps into the passenger seat.

“You okay?” Rafael asks after he pulls back into the road.

“I don’t know,” Jane whispers.

“Did they say what happened to Michael?”

“No. She just said he’s in critical condition.”

Rafael glances at her.

“Rafael, what if it’s bad? What if I lose him?” Jane hears her voice shake, and knows she’s close to tears. She hasn’t exactly talked to Rafael about Michael since she apologized for doubting him. Rafael has mentioned him, in passing, but Jane never wanted to bring him up herself. Because if Rafael ever actually said that he wanted Michael out of Mateo’s life, Jane thinks that might kill her.

~~~

Jane doesn’t cry when the doctor tells her that Michael was shot in the stomach, doesn’t cry when the doctor says Michael being alive is nothing short of a miracle, doesn’t cry when she sees Michael pale and surrounded by doctors and nurses, doesn’t cry when she calls his mom and tells her what happened, doesn’t cry when she leaves voicemails for her mom and Rafael to tell them what happened, doesn’t cry when she fills out Michael’s paperwork, doesn’t cry when the nurse asks what Michael might want them to do if he doesn’t wake up. Jane doesn’t cry until the doctors tell her she can see him, sits down next to his bed, takes his hand, and sobs.

She falls asleep with his hand in both of hers, and her head on his thigh. The nurse wakes her up and smiles sympathetically when Jane winces and rubs her neck.

“I can bring a cot in here, if you want. Sleeping like that is hell on your back.”

Jane smiles but can’t bring herself to answer.

The nurse just keeps smiling and pats her shoulder. “I’ll have that cot brought in.”

When Jane gets back from washing her face in the bathroom to hide the signs of tears, she finds her mom and Abuela arguing with the nurse at the desk.

“We’re his family, too!” Xiomara is saying forcefully, leaning over the counter. “My daughter is with him now, and I want to see both of them.”

“Mom,” Jane croaks, then clears her throat. “Mom, stop.”

Xiomara rushes over to her. “Oh, Jane. Are you okay?”

Jane laughs, the sound forced even to her. “I’m not the one that was shot.”

“Oh, honey. Let’s go see Michael.”

It’s easier, with family around her, and soon Rogelio is there, followed by Rafael and Mateo, and even Petra. They distract her, between Rogelio’s outrageous stories about celebrities, and Xiomara’s plans for Christmas, and Petra’s violin, which Mateo is fascinated with. When they all leave, though, Jane suddenly feels empty. She sits back down next to Michael’s bed, takes his hands, and tries really hard not to cry again. Michael always hated to see her cry, especially when it was his fault. And while Jane wouldn’t necessarily categorize this as his fault, she is crying over him.

“Don’t leave me, Michael,” she whispers, resting her forehead on his hand. “It’s you, it’s always been you. I should have told you before.”

“Don’t cry, Janie.” Michael’s voice is raspy, and Jane almost thinks it’s in her head. “You know I hate it when you cry.”

Jane starts crying all over again, her hands fluttering over him, unsure where she should touch, if she should touch. Michael catches one and presses it to his face.

“How do you feel?”

Michael actually looks happier than she’s seen him in a long time, despite the bruises and bandages wrapped around his ribs. He smiles at her. “Much better.”

Jane kisses him. 

~~~

A week later, when Michael is still in the hospital but on his feet again, Jane asks, “What were you doing? When you got shot?”

Michael waves off her hand when she offers to help him across the room. “I was with Nadine, trying to track down Sin Rostro. It was a set-up. If I hadn’t seen the gunman… Nadine would be dead. I would probably be dead.”

Jane ducks under his arm to support him back to his bed. “I’m glad you’re both alive. Even if it means you’re stuck here for a while.”

“Not much longer,” Michael grins down at her. “Doctor said I could probably go home at the end of the week. There’s a lot of Netflix and sponge baths in my future, but anything is better than more Jello.”

Jane giggles. “And who’s going to help you hobble around when you need to use the bathroom?” She helps him settle back into the bed.

Michael shrugs and looks away. “I’ll manage.”

She carefully runs her fingers through the tufts of hair sticking up over his forehead. “You could let me help, you know,” she says quietly.

Michael plays with the sheet, still not meeting her gaze. “You have Mateo. I wouldn’t take you away from him.”

This time Jane slides a hand over his cheek and turns his head. “Mateo can stay with Rafael until you’re better. I’m staying with you.” She pauses and pulls back. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Michael grabs her hand quickly and presses it between both of his. “Of course I do.” He hesitates.

“But?”

“Six months ago, you said we wouldn’t work. Nothing’s really changed since then.”

“But it has,” Jane says, heart picking up speed.

Michael shakes his head. “I still have things to work through. And what if Rafael and I never get along?”

“Rafael drove me here, when the hospital called.”

Michael looks down at her hand, tracing the lines on her palm. “There’s a difference between not liking someone and wanting them to die,” he says dryly. “There’s a lot between us still.”

“Like me?”

Michael smiles sadly at her. “I’m not going to fight over you, Jane. I might fight for you, but I’ll always respect whatever decision you make.”

Jane sighs and tightens her hand around his. “I know. I just wish it wasn’t so hard.”

“I’m not going to disappear on you again, Janie, I promise. We just need to take everything slow. For Mateo.”

Jane chews on her lip. “Are you saying you don’t want to be with me?”

“I’m always going to want to be with you. But you know we have a long way to go before things are anywhere close to where we were before you got pregnant.”

Jane presses her mouth into a thin line and stares out the window while she blinks the tears from her eyes. Slowly she extracts her hand from Michael’s. “I’m still staying with you until you feel better,” she says firmly. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Michael drops his head back onto the pillow and stares at her for a long time with a soft look in his eyes before he finally says, “Okay.”


	2. Whenever you’re ready

It’s unnerving, how natural it feels for Jane to be staying with Michael, even if she’s sleeping on the couch and he can’t walk farther than the bathroom. Jane translates telenovelas for him, she sleeps through his football games, and they catch up on the TV shows they used to watch together. It’s jarring, leaving for class or to see Mateo. Like when you watch a movie and get invested in the world and the characters and when it's done, reality comes crashing back in. And returning at the end of the day feels too close to coming home for comfort.

By the end of the first week, they’ve migrated to the couch to watch movies. Michael decides he’s tired of grilled cheese and take-out and sends Jane to the store with a list. When she gets back, he’s got water boiling and onions and garlic in oil on a pan. Jane had forgotten how good Michael’s spaghetti is.

They sit at the table for dinner for the first time since that day over a year ago when Michael had proposed and Jane told him she was pregnant. It’s uncomfortably close to the life Jane used to imagine she’d have with Michael. She manages to smile and keep the talk casual through dinner, and stays calm when Michael sits a little too close on the couch when they watch a telenovela afterwards. But later, when she knows Michael’s asleep, and she’s alone on the couch, she lets herself cry over could-have-beens.

“Jane?”

“Yeah?” Jane calls back. She’s in the kitchen, making eggs and toast for a late Saturday breakfast while Michael slowly gets dressed. She knows his voice is so loud because he left his door open; it makes her shiver a little as she whips the eggs a little too violently.

“Can we go somewhere today?” Michael’s voice is as close to whining as Jane’s ever heard it. She giggles.

“What? Tired of me already?” she teases.

She imagines him rolling his eyes at her. “I’m tired of my apartment,” he calls back. “How about the beach? Or the park? Or anywhere other than here?” He appears in the hallway, leaning up against the wall.

Jane eyes his jeans and t-shirt, sliding the food onto plates. She hands one to him. “Are you sure you’re up to that much walking?”

“I’m starting physical therapy on Monday. I want to be ready.” He sits at the table and pats the spot next to him.

“Okay,” Jane relents. “The park it is.”

Michael tires quickly, as Jane knew he would. They manage a lap around the playground before Jane suggests they sit. There's a little girl on the swings, blond braids flying behind her as she tries to get as much height as possible. Both Michael and Jane wonder if that's what their girl might look like. Neither of them say anything, though, and Michael tilts his head up to point out shapes in the clouds. 

“That's not a goat!” Jane exclaims. “It's obviously a…”

“A what?”

“A lump?”

Michael shakes his head. “No imagination.”

Jane gasps, only exaggerating a little. “Me?”

Michael grins. “Let’s go down to the beach.”

It takes twice as long as it should to get across the park, and the first ten minutes are spent in awkward silence until Jane remembers she never told Michael about the Britney Spears and Rogelio drama, then about Professor Chavez, and her mom and Abuela getting high off of the chocolate from Zed. By the time they’re sitting on the beach with their shoes off and toes in the sand, they’re laughing and talking. It feels like old times.

“I’m meeting with Rafael next week.”

Not so much like old times after all.

“Just the two of us.” He glances at Jane, then looks back out over the water. “Hopefully no one will lose their head this time,” he says dryly.

Jane fidgets. Michael lays a hand over hers.

“We’re meeting in a public place, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Jane whispers.

“Then what?”

“I really want this to work.”

~~~

Jane goes home with Mateo while Michael and Rafael have their meeting. She tries to keep herself distracted but she can't keep her mind off Michael and Rafael. She scrambles for her phone when it rings. 

“Hello?”

“It was him.” Michael doesn't sound mad, just upset and a little confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“Rafael paid off some guy to turn me in.”

Jane doesn't reply, shocked. 

“I didn't punch him.”

“That's not what I was thinking.”

“I'm not even mad.”

“I trusted him. He lied and I trusted him.”

They're both quiet for a long time. “Everyone lies, Janie. It's why they lie that's important.”

“Rafael’s calling. I'll see you later?”

“It's movie night, right? Can't miss that.”

“Bye, Michael.”

“Bye, Jane.”

Jane calls Rafael back. She doesn't even let him say hello before she asks, “Why did you lie?”

“You talked to Michael.”

“You lied to me, Rafael. You said you didn't turn Michael in. Why did you lie?”

“You told me to fight for you. You told me to fight for our family, and I was. I was fighting for us.”

“You got him fired,” Jane snaps.

“He should have been fired. Because of what he did, Mateo was kidnapped.”

“Mateo was kidnapped because of me,” Jane yells. She takes a shuddering breath. “I’m the reason Rose knows how Michael feels about me. It had nothing to do with Michael letting Nadine go.”

Jane doesn’t remember exactly what Rafael said after that. She just remembers that there was definitely a double standard buried in there (“it’s not your fault, Jane”). She goes to Michael’s and doesn’t pay attention to the movie. And when Michael asks what’s wrong, she lets him hold her.

Jane wakes up in the morning with stiffness in her neck and a weight over her waist. Her heart constricts painfully when she realizes the weight is Michael and they'd fallen asleep together on the couch. She takes too long to decide what to do, though, and Michael half-wakes and pulls her closer, burying his nose in the back of her neck. 

Jane means to pull away, but her limbs betray her. She melts into him. 

They haven't talked about the sleeping together, or the awkward moments after Jane rolled away and went to shower. Michael starts his physical therapy and Jane goes to class and they both pretend that it's totally normal for ex-fiancées turned friends to accidentally fall asleep together, wake up cuddling, and not talk about it. Both of them want to know what it means, but neither of them want to bring it up. And life goes on.


	3. I surrender

The moral of the story is that Jane shouldn’t walk around in just socks. She slips and falls with a yelp. Michael yanks the bathroom door open, a towel around his hips and purple bruises painted over the lower left side of his stomach. Jane stares just long enough to make it awkward before she scrambles to her feet and turns to face the wall, hand over her eyes.

“You okay?” Michael asks.

“Yep,” Jane says quickly. “I just slipped.”

Jane waits for Michael to move, to go back into the bathroom or his bedroom. But nothing happens.

“Stop it,” she grumbles, dropping her arm.

“Stop what?” Jane can hear it in his voice.

“Stop laughing at me.” Jane tries hard not to pout. She’s pouting.

Michael rests a warm hand on her arm. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her. He’s too close. She attempts to keep the air moving through her lungs, but it gets harder the more aware she becomes of how close Michael is.

“Babe,” he whispers, right behind her ear. “Stop freaking out.” He’s not laughing anymore.

Jane closes her eyes, frozen in place. Michael’s hand drifts down to her waist and suddenly the whole situation is very familiar. Except there’s the looming question of how they could possibly make it work. And, of course, Michael’s not wearing any clothes.

Jane slowly turns around and looks up at him.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me without a shirt before,” he jokes, though he knows that’s not why she’s hyperventilating. And although he’s doing a pretty good job of hiding it, Michael’s nervous too.

“You said we needed to take it slow.”

“I know.”

Jane’s back hits the wall without her even realizing she’d been moving. Michael presses his forehead to hers for a long moment, eyes closed, before stepping back.

“Slow,” he repeats and gently closes his bedroom door behind him.

Jane slides down the wall and bangs her forehead against her knees. Slow is the last thing she wants.

~~~

Jane moves back home the day Michael goes back to work. It feels good to be putting Mateo to bed again, even though she’d seen him every day. But Jane feels empty, like something’s missing. She’ll just never admit that it’s Michael that’s missing. The time she spent with him feels dream-like now, and she manages to wait a whole day before calling him.

“How was your first day back?”

“Lots of paperwork,“ Michael sounds grumpy.

Jane laughs. Michael hates paperwork. “Your stomach’s not hurting too much?”

“I feel fine. It’s quiet here without you, though.”

Jane flops backwards onto her bed. “Movie night tomorrow? It’s your turn to pick.”

“I already got it from the library. How’s Mateo?”

“Sleeping already. He doesn’t seem too annoyed by continually switching houses. Thank God.”

“Good. Get some sleep, Jane.”

“Goodnight.”

Jane falls asleep that night and dreams of Michael. 

~~~

If asked, Jane would say Michael’s biggest secret is that he plays piano. It’s not exactly his biggest secret, that would be his not-so-legal past, but it’s the one of the two that she can tell. Michael doesn’t own a piano, but Jane would convince him every once in a while to stop by a music shop and play for her. She never knew the pieces he would play, but her favorite was the one he told her was the Brahm’s walz. Jane wakes up with the waltz in her head and tears on her cheeks. She doesn’t remember the dream, but she has a pit in her stomach, like her body knows that it’s going to be a bad day.

That morning, Jane takes a cold shower because her mom used up all the hot water, Mateo spits up on her shirt and again on her change of clothes, she’s late for class because she couldn’t find Rafael to drop Mateo off, she gets a C on her paper, Rogelio texts her to cancel their dinner plans, and when she gets home, she can’t find her laptop. She should have just stayed in bed. When she finally finds her laptop (under her mom’s bed), she makes it through all of an hour of writing before she’s napping on her bed, trying to sleep away the headache that’s been lurking all day.

She wakes up at four-thirty, groggy and not in the mood to write. She sits in front of her computer for half an hour anyway, chin propped on her hand as she re-reads the beginning of her novel over and over instead of adding anything. At the knock on the door, she jumps up, eager for a distraction. 

“Michael, hi.” Jane steps aside to let him in but he doesn't move. 

“It’s not going to work.” Michael sounds resigned, like he’s known for a while but is only now admitting it.

Jane flinches, but reaches out for his hand. “Michael-”

“Jane.” Michael gently catches her hand and moves it away. “It hasn’t been working. Rafael will never like me, and I don’t know how I fit into your life anymore.”

Through her tears, Jane can see the pain in Michael’s eyes, the way his hands fidget by his sides, the tightness in his mouth. She can’t speak, though, and he eventually leaves.

After the door closes and his car starts, Jane says what she couldn’t before. “Wait, don’t go.”

~~~

Jane feels like she sleepwalks through the week, her head full of cotton. She doesn’t tell anyone about Michael, doesn’t ask Rogelio if he knows why Michael changed his mind, tries not to think about Michael at all. She writes a short story for class that ends up quite depressing, and while Professor Chavez doesn’t mention the change in mood, it’s the highest mark she’s gotten from him all semester.

It's Rafael who eventually brings it up, casually, like he's hiding something. Jane frowns and pokes half-heartedly at her salad. 

“I haven't seen Michael in two weeks,” she says to the table.

“What happened?”

Maybe Jane’s being too harsh but he sounds too innocent, too concerned, and a tad smug. She scowls at him this time. “He said it's not going to work. Happy?”

She drops her fork and fiddles with Mateo’s stroller. 

“It's always going to be him, isn't it?” Rafael finally asks.

Jane stills, feeling a little bad for snapping. But only a little. “Yes,” she says. 

“It's my fault.” Rafael says abruptly. “I didn't exactly try to get along with him.”

“What do you mean?” Jane sips her water, trying to get rid of the papery feeling in her throat. 

Rafael shrugs. “I kept brushing off his attempts to make amends. And I may have insinuated to him that he puts Mateo in danger.”

“Do you really think that?” Jane asks quietly, not daring to look up and find a lie in his eyes. 

“No.” Rafael actually sounds honest. “I don't. Not anymore.”

Jane gets up and leaves without another word. She needs time to think.

~~~

Jane knocks on Michael’s door exactly one week after her talk with Rafael. Jane fidgets while she waits and is about to walk away when he finally opens the door.

“Jane.” Michael looks worn down, like he hasn’t been sleeping.

Jane presses her hands against her stomach to steel herself. She had a whole speech ready but she doesn’t remember a single word. “I need you, Michael. Please don’t walk away.”

Michael slumps against the doorframe, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Jane scowls. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Rafael,” Michael starts, but Jane cuts him off.

“You’re the one that makes me happy. Nothing else matters,” Jane says flatly. “Rafael and I will figure things out.”

“Jane,” Michael sighs.

Jane knows that sigh. It’s the one that means Michael’s already made up his mind. She steps forward and kisses him, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. She fists his shirt in her hands and she swears she can feel his palms skim over her sides before he pulls away.

He presses his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy. “Janie, please don’t make me do this.”

Jane swallows harshly, blinks away the tears, and backs away. “Whenever you’re ready,” she says, and leaves without looking back. And she waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And nearly a month later, Michael shows up on her doorstep.

“Rafael called me,” he admits. “He apologized and said that you’ve been miserable and that if I get my head out of my ass he’ll get his out of his ass and we can figure it out.”

Jane keeps her arms wrapped around her stomach, mouth trembling. “Michael, I don’t think I can take it if you leave again.”

He gently takes her wrists and wraps them around his waist. “I promise, Jane. I’m not leaving.”

She cries into his shirt while he hugs her tight.

“Do you forgive me?”

“You’re always forgiven. Always and completely forgiven.”


End file.
